And, The Heart Beats in Threes
by Alidiabin
Summary: "Tried, couldn't," she's heard those words before. Set post 17x10. T/Z. Ziva finds that Tony had kept some suprising things over the years, and it opens up a conversation.


The apartment Tony rented was barely big enough for two, let alone the three that had occupied it since the New Year.

Ziva had been so worried about disrupting their lives, she had been gone for so long, but Tony and Tali were desperate to make this place a home for her.

It helped that Ziva had arrived with only a go bag. A weekender, with a change of clothes, and not much else.

The proximity had been good. They were forced to solve conflicts, simply because there was nowhere to hide. She had heard Tony try to coax Tali to let Ziva help her, even though Ziva did not know their bedtime song. Tony had come out of the bathroom once, to find Ziva teaching Tali to dance, having pushed the furniture against the wall.

Ziva David was home.

She had made a home.

She had shut herself away in Tony's bedroom (she still had trouble thinking of it of hers and Tony's), with a pile of laundry, promising herself that once she had finished she would open her book. During those years on the run, she had been denied the simple pleasure of reading a good book. Now, she was free to do so.

She was finally free.

But, her absence had left scars. She and Tony were still working out how to trust each other. Tali still freaked out, when Ziva left to go to the market.

_You're coming back, aren't you Ima? _

Tali still found her way into her parents beds every few nights. The bed was definitely not big enough for three, but they made room.

How could Ziva make up for three and a half years of absence?

Ziva tried to banish those thoughts, as she sat in the tiny bedroom. Tali was asleep in her bedroom. Tony was in the living room with his headphones on having his monthly fortnite date with Jimmy. Ziva had said hello to Jimmy, when she snuck off to the bedroom to give Tony some space. Jimmy, was still so excited to see her. His smile had filled the whole screen.

Ziva picked up the laundry, and held it to her chest like it was a baby, and opened the mess that was her and Tony's shared wardrobe. Tony's stuff had been fighting for space, before Ziva joined them.

A trip to a certain Swedish furniture store was in their future, though it would be a stressful one, as there was no room in the bedroom for another piece of furniture.

Tony had been talking about moving, but little did he know that this size apartment for the rent they paid, in one of the most expensive cities in the world, was actually some kind of real estate miracle.

Ziva opened the wardrobe, and watched as pile of Tony's t-shirts fell out from the flimsy wardrobe organiser. Ziva picked them up, and tried to put them on the bottom of the wardrobe, but found the bottom was not flat. Ziva reached into the back of the wardrobe, expecting to find a forgotten shirt or old pair of pants. Instead she pulled out a bag.

She recognised it instantly.

Tali's go bag.

Ziva moved the laundry to the floor, and placed the go-bag on her lap. There was something in there.

What had Tony stashed in there?

When she opened the bag, she recognised the contents. Clothes. Tali's clothes. Clothes that were much too small for the sleeping 5 and a half year old across the hall. Ziva picked up the tiny denim jacket she had packed for Tali and pressed her nose into it, hoping to reverse time.

The jacket smelled musty, like it had been stuffed in the bottom of a wardrobe for three years.

She picked up the light pink and white tunic, and did the same thing.

Ziva had missed so much.

The door moved, and Tony made a shadow in the door frame.

"Jimmy sends his love," Tony said, as he looked at her, one eyebrow raised.

Ziva stuffed the clothes into the bag.

He walked across the room, moving around the piles of laundry like it was an obstacle course. He sat down on the bed.

"I was trying to find some space," Ziva said, as she looked up at him.

Tony nodded.

"We really need to Marie Kondo in here, don't we?" Tony uttered, as he looked at the state of the wardrobe.

Ziva dipped her hand into the bag, and fingered the gauzy dress. There was a tiny hole in the fabric.

The passage of time left scars.

"Did you keep all of her clothes?" Ziva asked.

Tony shook his head.

"Just those ones," he replied, as he moved from the bed to the floor so that they were sitting next to each other.

Their knees touched.

"I tried to get rid of them," Tony said, as he reached for the bag. "But, every time I tried, I just couldn't."

_Tried, couldn't_. She's heard these words before.

_Couldn't live without you, I guess._

Tony pulled out the blue patterned dress, with the dramatic collar. Tali had looked so cute in that.

"Why?" Ziva asked.

Tony stuffed the dress back into the bag, and picked up the sleeper suit.

"You'd picked out these clothes for her," Tony said, as he scrunched the fabric of the sleeper. "These clothes were the last little bits of you we had. That and the scarf."

Ziva felt her mouth dry.

Her heart jumped into her throat.

She had caused so much pain.

"That scarf," Tony said, as he stuffed the sleeper back in the bag. "Tali used to sleep with it, when it still smelt like you. Then it stopped smelling like you I hung it above her bed, like some sort of dream catcher. That's how I told Tali you were thinking of her, you were keeping her safe."

In Tali's bedroom that deep purple scarf, was hung at the head of Tali's bed. The child had suggested Ziva take it back, but Ziva had let the child keep it. It was Tali's now.

Just like the star of David necklace in Tali's keepsake box.

Tony was such a good father.

"Gotta admit," Tony said after a few quiet seconds. "The clothes you sent her with were surprising, there was lots of pink."

Ziva looked at him.

"What do you mean?" Ziva asked.

Tony picked up the jacket from the bag.

"I guess, knowing you and the clothes you like, I thought that you would dress Tali like a tomboy," Tony admitted.

Ziva let out a slight laugh.

"I never really thought about it," Ziva said, as a smile crossed her face. Tali had been a well-dressed baby. "Where we were, there were not many shops, so I brought what I could get. She grew so quickly then. She barely had a chance to wear the clothes, before I had to get new ones."

Tony nodded.

"Yeah," Tony said. "She still grows like a weed."

Ziva patted Tony's knees.

"What was she like as a baby?" Tony asked, his voice cracking.

Ziva took in a deep breath.

They were in dangerous territory, wading this far into the past, especially as the ground they stood on in the present was still so tentative. So new.

"What would you like to know?" Ziva asked softly.

There was so much to catch up on.

"Everything," Tony said. "People always ask me what Tali was like as a baby, and I have to make it up. I try to remember what Jimmy said about Tori as a baby, or make guesses from the photos you left."

Deep in the go-bag, Ziva had stowed a USB stick, that required a password to open. On the thumb drive, there had been as many photos of Tali as Ziva could take. The twenty week ultrasound, which Ziva had gotten under a fake name. The photo of newly born Tali in that huge crib she never slept in. Tali in a high chair, with a party hat on her head, both mother and daughter had survived that first year.

The photos were only ever of Tali. So that if they fell into the wrong hands, nobody would be able to join the dots on Tali's parentage.

Tony had done the same for Ziva. He had taken photos of Tali nearly daily. During, the late nights when sleep did not come easy, Ziva would sit in the dining room with the laptop, and study the thousands of photos. She would look at them, taking in all of her daughter. Then she would flick to the next one, noticing the minute daily changes. Tali had grown so quickly.

A picture was worth a thousand words, but the picture was just a moment.

Ziva had missed so many moments.

Ziva felt her eyes moisten, and a phantom pang ran through her chest.

"What was it like when she was born?" Tony asked, as he took her hand.

It came back to her so quickly. The hospital in the countryside, which Ziva had driven herself too before the pains became too frequent. It was hot, the sun warming the glass of the window pane. She was using her fake name, but sometimes the pain made it hard to recognize the name. The well meaning nurse kept asking if there was someone to call, and Ziva kept saying no, even though she could recite Tony's number.

"She was six days late," ZIva whispered, as she licked away the salt that had fallen down her face.

"DiNozzo's always are," Tony declared.

Ziva let out a tiny laugh. A half laugh.

"It was hot," Ziva said, as the memories flooded back. She had not enjoyed pregnancy. "And, she was big. I was miserable."

She had refused to imagine what it would have been like if Tony had been there. She had refused to consider how soft he would be with her. How patient. Even if they had never quite managed being together, he would have done everything to keep her comfortable. He would have made jokes while the pains tore her apart.

He would have fallen in love with Tali, the minute he knew about her.

Tony reached forward, and moved a curl that had fallen into her face.

"She took forever to come," Ziva said, feeling a phantom twinge of pain. "Hours and hours."

The nurse kept offering her pain relief. The doctor wanted to cut the baby out of her, but Ziva refused. Tony's number was on the tip of her tongue when the nurse asked if there was someone to call.

But how could she possibly explain it all.

"Then she was here," Ziva said, with a sniffle. "And, she was perfect. There was something in me that had broken, when I was in Israel, and when I sent you away. Then when the doctor put Tali in my arms, it was like the brokenness pieces of me started to stitch together."

Tony ran his hands down Ziva's shoulders.

"She was a good baby," Ziva continued. "Such a good baby."

Tony's eyes were now glassy, a lone tear broke free and slid down his face.

"She was always a good eater," Ziva said, as she reached to wipe a tear from Tony's face. "From the minute she was on my chest, she knew what to do."

The nurse gave her leaflets about breastfeeding and groups that offered support, but Ziva did not need them.

"She gets that from me," Tony said, a smile crossing his face.

Ziva laughed. A fuller laugh than before.

"She never went down for the night until it was nearly morning," Ziva said quietly. "It was like she was on DC time."

Tony smiled.

"I'm glad she grew out of that," Tony said.

Ziva reached for his face. Placing her hands on his cheeks.

"I am sorry," Ziva whispered. "I am so sorry."

Tony reached for her hand, and tapped it.

"Ziva," he said. "We can't change the past, we just have to make the best of what we've got."

Ziva nodded. She knew this, but it hurt.

Healing always did.

"I always saw so much of you in her," Ziva whispered, as she took her hands from his face.

In her smile. In her laugh. In the way her eyes would follow screens.

"I always see so much of you in her," Tony replied, as touched her knee.

It defied the odds that they had managed to make the child who was asleep across the hall.

Half him.

Half her.

It was simple math, but it still felt like magic.

Pure magic.

Tony reached behind him, and used the bed to get up. A groan escaped his lips. These days his back and his shoulder both carried a dull ache.

Keeping up with a five and a half year old required more energy than either of them could imagine.

"There's one more thing," Tony said, as he reached into the wardrobe, to the upper shelf. "That we kept from the go-bag."

Ziva slowly rose up, using the bed to help her. Her knees were not like they used to be.

Tony knocked a winter sweater onto the ground, and produced a familiar piece of fabric.

Her tallit.

The market in Jerusalem came back to her. Tali in Adam's arms. Tali's cry for her, as Adam took her away.

Ziva fingered the fabric.

"I figured it was important," Tony said, as he placed the piece of fabric around Ziva's shoulders.

Her mind drifted to Adam.

Even months after his death, the grief was raw. Adam had given up so much.

For her.

For them.

"When I-," Ziva started, feeling the words getting caught in her throat. "When I had to give her to Adam to send her to you, I wrapped her in this."

Ziva fingered the tassels of the tallit.

"I needed all the help I could get," Ziva declared. "I knew she would be safe as soon as she was with you, but there was twenty-three hours when she was with neither of us."

Tony placed his hands on her shoulders, and then rested his forehead on hers.

"I let Tali wear it sometimes," Tony said. His words soft and calm. "When we light the candles at Hanukkah. I probably do it all wrong, but you'll be here this year, you can teach us how to do it right."

Ziva has missed four Hanukkah's with them.

The weight of that makes her heart hurt.

"I look forward to that," Ziva said.

She has fought for this.

To hear Tali sing familiar songs off-key, because she has not inherited her namesakes singing voice. To watch Tony stuff himself with latkes and sufganiyot, and then listen to him complain about his stomach hurting. To watch the flicker of each candle flame, with them lighting a new candle for each passing night. One more day would night of them being together as a family.

Of them being whole.

She has fought for this promise of the future.

"So do I," Tony said as he planted a kiss on her forehead. "And, so much more."

**A/N**:

I do not own a thing.

This started life as my brain mulling over two separate observations that I saw after the episode. On Tumblr coteweatherlysvu talked about how Tali was dressed in very pink/girly clothes, and on twitter misspatchesmom and sheisamazing noticed that Tali was wrapped in a tallit when Ziva handed Tali to Adam.

This fic assumes that our dynamic duo reunite next episode, and that by then Hanukkah has already passed, but who knows NCIS is getting a bit timey-whimey in these latest episodes.

The title of the fic, is from Regina Spektor song 'Firewood'.

For those who are celebrating, Happy Hanukkah or Merry Christmas.

For those that this time of year is hard, I'm sending my love.

Reviews are love.


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